


the sandbox

by helplesslynerdy



Series: the sandbox [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Holding, Gen, implied child neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 05:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helplesslynerdy/pseuds/helplesslynerdy
Summary: There’s an intruder in the Batcave.A very...small one.





	the sandbox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audreycritter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreycritter/gifts).

> The happiest of happy birthdays to **audreycritter.** Thank you for letting me build this small tower of sand.

It is late enough in the evening that the festivities throb in tune with Bruce Wayne’s burgeoning migraine. _12:32 am_\- he rolls his eyes. He probably has another hour or two to go before he can usher everyone out of the yearly Wayne Halloween Masquerade. Popping his neck, he takes in a steadying breath before readjusting his mask.

Two pulses vibrate at his wrist. _An intruder in the study?_ His eyes scan the room, landing briefly on Dick’s mop of dark curls gently bobbing in time with his snores- his head pillowed on a rolled up suit jacket. _And Jason is already in bed._ Children accounted for, Bruce then zeros in on an impeccably brushed suit and the man in it carrying a tray of used champagne flutes.

He backs towards the doorway, and Alfred, still turned away from him, nigh-imperceptibly taps his right ear. “Leaving so soon, sir?”

“...the belfreee old’n broooow, THRICE conSUMED rebuild, watch ooooher the town.”

“Sir, when you start quoting Longfellow at me, I cut you off.”

“...s’all right, Alfred,” he slurs. “J’gone to the water closetttt.”

He stumbles into the hallway, and his limp posture goes rigid. Strides suddenly long and sure, he discards his mask into an empty chair. As he rounds the open double doors, he finds the study empty. But the clock is-

_The clock is open._

Narrowed eyes dart about the room. _Several books are piled up to the bottom shelf_, he notes, as he closes the clock behind him. Taking two steps down at a time, he is almost to the foot of the stairs when he sees something in the dim blue light of the Cave.

_Is that..._

_..._

_It couldn’t possibly be-_

Toddling across the bay to the Dick-nom-de-guerred Bat-Computer is _a baby._

A baby in Dolce and Gabanna, but a baby nonetheless.

Bruce stumbles on the last step, and the baby stops so quickly that he loses his, admittedly unsure, footing and lands on his diapered bottom.

When Bruce reaches him, he looks for any sign that this baby isn’t actually a baby. _Android? No, too advanced to not be real. Perhaps mind control? No- the brain has to be at a certain developmental state._

The widest, clearest blue eyes look up at him through wispy black hair. The tiny infiltrator is working his thumb furiously, a frown on his scrunched-up face. “Now, who might you be?”

The soft suction sound echoes in the cave.

“Not much of a talker, eh? Neither am I.” 

He reaches down to pick the boy up, yet instead of fidgeting or crying at the handling of a stranger, the boy acts like it’s as mundane as pulling on socks. _Probably has a string of nannies, then._ Not many of the people here would dress their children in anything but bespoken clothing, so that narrows it down. _The Neelys? No, no children. The Barnetts? No, they have a ten-year-old girl. Wait-_

_The Drakes._

This boy is...Tim. Timothy Drake. The Drakes had struck it rich in personal computer software, and thus they were still getting used to their new lives. They hadn’t yet learned all of the...social niceties. Or how to keep track of their son, which he gauged to be about a year and a half in age.

“Let’s go find your mom and dad, eh, bud?” 

_Has he blinked?_

The only confirmation he receives is a sharp intake of breath as he shifts the boy to his hip. Tapping at his watch, he then waits for Alfred’s response. The boy has a button nose, crying out to be teased in all manner of baby games. Bruce decides to go with a boop.

The pod child finally blinks. 

“Well, at least we know that your eyelids do function.”

A chime in his ear. “Is everything all right, Master Bruce?”

“Yes, Alfred. Just a little intruder. Could you let the Drakes know that I’ve found their son?”

A brief pause. “The Drakes left well over an hour ago, sir.” 

...

“Are you still there, sir?”

“Thank you, Alfred. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Quite a lot of potential scenarios, suddenly electrified and magnetized, fall about him into place. _The party this past summer. The pool incident. Somehow, a baby had broken into the fencing of the Johnson’s pool area, and had it not been for the staff cleaning the area-_

Bruce shakes his head, looking back down at Tim.

“You seem to be a prodigy at getting into places you shouldn’t be.” He bounces Tim up from his hip to his shoulder. “Have you been trading notes with Selina?”

Nothing. 

He vaguely remembers nannies following Janet Drake- from a substantial distance- at social events, but it never seemed to be the same one. This little guy probably didn’t get much affection, which would explain the unsettling behavior.

Nausea bubbles up towards Bruce’s throat. _How could anyone-?_ He shakes his head, and unconsciously, he cups Tim’s head towards his chest much in the way he tries to comfort Jason. The boy is stiff, unyielding, until with a small sigh his fist grabs on to Bruce’s lapel. His tiny body utterly molds to Bruce’s chest as he climbs the stairs to the study.

“Don’t worry, bud. I’ll take care of you.”


End file.
